


Monster at the Bottom of the Bottle

by blueandwhiteimpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hurt!Sam, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueandwhiteimpala/pseuds/blueandwhiteimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's mental state has been deteriorating since he started the trials, to the point that he can barely think straight any more. Nightmares, hallucinations, never-ending pain. But after a particularly bad incident, who will be there to comfort him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monster at the Bottom of the Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first attempt at an AO3 Fanfiction! Thank you for clicking by the way. You look cute. Anyway, yayy give me reviews and stuff... Enjoy the wondrous workings of my mind!

The door to the hotel room creaked on its hinges as Dean heaved the key out of the lock. It was stuck tight, the lock having clearly rusted over quite a while ago with no attempt to fix it. The door swung open to reveal the brother’s newest ‘home away from home’, a crappy budget motel with startlingly yellow walpaper that looked like (and could very well have been) coated in highlighter fluid. Sam guessed it was either a terrible but cheap choose from a colour-blind interior decorator or it was meant to brighten the dingy room, which was lit by nothing but a dim bulb, shedding a little light onto the stiff beds with a floral blanket (and a little something that looked like a blood splatter) and the beaten down couch. Sam grimaced as a rat ran over his feet, watching Dean flop down on the bed,

"Well," Dean sighed, pulling off his boots, "we've had worse. Remember that room in Wisconsin… damn horny rats." Sam smiled in response, pulling his laptop out of the travel bag.

"So the witness says she heard screaming from inside the walls..." He began, summarising a newspaper clipping from the local paper

"Weird..." Dean grunted face down in the pillow, already half asleep. Sam sighed, closing the computer and setting it down on the couch as Dean’s first muffled snores reached his ears. Maybe he should sleep too. It had been over a day now. Flopping down, ignoring the squeaking coming from the sheets, Sam closed his eyes...

 

_Sam was strung up, a meat hook protruding from his chest. blood was pouring everywhere. more than Sam though pt he had in his body, and everything that could ache or sting or burn did just that. Bolts of pain were shooting through him. With a quick, pained glance he saw his all-too-familiar antagonist, Lucifer stood to the side, a smirk playing on his lips._

_"So Sammy, isn't this fun!" He snarked, licking the edge of a knife he held in his hand. Sam screamed as the meat hook got deeper,_

_"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?" He screamed in agony, "YOU'RE NOT REAL!" For a few moments, all Sam could here was Lucifers high, cold peels of laughter. It sent a chill up what Sam hoped was his spine, setting rows of goosebumps along his arm._

_"Excuse me, Sam," Lucifer snarled, "but do I detect a hint of accusation?" Lucifer laughed again, "No Sam. This wasn't me. I just heard that the Boy king was putting in a private show and I gate crashed. Sam, you did this to yourself. This place, the hallucinations, it’s all your fault. And we are going to have so, much, fun…" The realisation hit Sam like a truck. I did this to myself. Me. Everything began melting away around him, Lucifer, the warehouse. And in its place was darkness. And through the darkness, Sam heard the voice. His voice. Dean's voice. Cas' voice. His father. Bobby. Everybody he held dear. They were all chanting the same thing. Monster... Monster... Monster... "No..." Sam strained as they overwhelmed him.... "DEANNN!"_

 

"SHIT...." Sam's eyes flicked open to see the hotel room ceiling, there was no warehouse. No Lucifer. No voices. He was alone. Sam looked over that Deans bed to see it empty, a note on the pillow,

"Couldn't sleep. Went out to the nearest bar. Back by two." Sam smiled. This didn't even surprise him anymore. It was typical Dean. Sam noticed he was shaking like a hyperactive Chiwawa. Shooken up from the nightmare, Sam stood up unsteadily and took a few wobbly steps to the bathroom. It was small, dirty. The toilet bowl looked close to collapse and the walls were oozing something green and unpleasant, Sam didn't care, he just made it to the toilet- and vomited everything up. The dream had made him feel sick. Worse than he had felt for a while now. Well, a few weeks at least. Sam deposited the last of his salad into the toilet, and after a failed attempt at flushing it, stumbled feebly to the grimy sink and flicked on the tap. A weak stream of water began dribbling out. He took what he could, splashing his face with a few browned water droplets. He cranked the taps shut and looked at himself in the mirror.

 

He looked a sorry sight. The bags under his eyes had evolved from a slight shadow to what looked like purple eye shadow. His eyes were slightly red, his hair was a mess and after forgetting to shave for a few days, he was growing a scruffy stubble. But Sam didn't see any of that. Not the bags or the stubble. No. What he saw was a monster staring back at him. Sam stood at the mirror, watching his reflection mock him. _"You're such a freak..."_ It seemed to hiss, _"a monster. You shouldn't even be here. You should be in hell. With Adam. What about him? You pathetic excuse for a hunter..._ ” Sam’s reflection’s jibes were getting louder, more violent. Sam could do nothing, but stay planted to the spot, on the brink of tears. _“How many times do you have to disappoint Dean before you accept it. We’re a monster Sammy, ex-blood junkies. And one day, that’s going to hit you. Hit you hard. Then you’ll give up. And realise that it’s not worth fighting, if you’re don’t know what side you’re on...”_

“SHUT UP!” the mirror shattered, the thousands of crystal shards peppering the floor as Sam punched it over and over, ignoring the stabbing pain shooting through his knuckles. Every blow the mirror took the taunting got louder as silver slivers began to litter the floor. It was by the seventh punch that he reduced the mirror to a frame, limply hanging from the wall. He didn’t care about what Dean or the hotel would think, or that he wouldn’t have another moment of freedom. All he wanted was for the pain to stop. He didn’t care how.

 

As if in response, pain began to wash over him, a sharp stinging sensation thast could have mimicked being stabbed in the gut repetitively with a dulled knife. Sam looked down at his knuckles. They were scratched so badly that they were barely recognisable as what they were, and were punctured with little fragments of the mirror, causing great lines of blood to well up, giving his hand the impression of a very haphazard maze of blood and scars.

 

Sam looked down at his feet. Blood was everywhere, along with practically a carpet of broken glass. He didn’t care. He knelt. His knees digging into the bits or mirror. Holding his bloody hands to his face, Sam wept, letting the tears slip through his fingers onto the legs. Each one seemed to reinforce what his reflection had said. “Monster. Freak. Disappointment.” “I am the less of them all...” Sam whispered. then with a surge of anger, whipped his head to the ceiling and screamed, “YOU HERE THAT WORLD? GOD? WHATEVER’S OUT THERE! YOU’VE GOT ME! UNCLE! YOU’VE WON! PLEASE JUST END IT!” Sam’s voice dropped into a sad whisper, “...Just end it...” such was his sadness, that it eclipsed everything. The room around him. The rest of the world. The swish of wings and the familiar smirk of an old ally boring into his skull.

 

“Hey kiddos!” smiled Gabriel “Guess who is totally not dead and brought frozen yogurt?” he continued gleefully, obviously expecting a bigger reaction for his return. Sam didn’t so much as glance in Gabe’s direction or make any kind of welcoming gesture. He lay on his knees, hands clutching his hands as a thick stream of tears began pouring down his face. Gabriel’s smiled suddenly dropped as he realised Sam’s state, “Kid....”

“Oh.. um... hi Gabe...” Sam croaked, a small smile playing on his lips, “Nice of you to drop in… Not that I don’t love your company or anything, but now isn’t really the time to make a comeback speech. I’m kind of preoccupied.”

 

The second the last word slipped from Sam’s mouth he collapsed on the tiles again sobbing.  Gabriel felt his heart drop. So it had finally happened; Sam had lost his sanity, his faith, his self esteem, and most of all, he had given up hope. In some ways Gabriel had always expected it to happen from the moment he set eyes on him. Sam was strong to the point that he pent up his pain to avoid inconveniencing others. But of course that came back to bite him. In more ways than one. And in this case, it had targeted his mind, blowing it apart bit by bit. No. Gabe wouldn’t let it happen. He hadn’t ran from the countless enemies all these years to see the people he did it for give up. Not today.

 

With a brief wave of his hand, the shattered remains around him flew back to their positions in the frame, all  evidence they had been anywhere but there erased. Gabe kneeled next to the semi-conscious Sam, cupping his head in his hands,

“You okay kid?” for a brief moment, Sam didn’t want to do anything. He just wanted Gabe to work his magic and make everything better. But in spite of the pain, Sam raised his head a bit and gave a brief little shake. Gabe’s eyes softened, and the next thing he knew, Sam was being hoisted in the air and carried bridal-style back to his bed. Gabe laid Sam down lightly, frowning at the scars on Sam’s hands.

“Dear god Sammy... Look what a mess you’ve made...” Gabe murmured, rubbing his finger across the wounds, watching them fade at the touch. Sam flinched, but seemed too worn out to complain.  With each touch, Gabriel began processing what had happened. What had caused Sam to do this? What could possibly hinder a Winchester?

“Gabe....” Sam’s voice shook, “I’m a monster. A freak. I always will be… I bet Dean...” Sam swallowed back tears, “I bet Dean doesn’t even want me anymore. I’m nothing to him but a problem. He’ll leave like everyone else. Nobody wants to be related to a monster” Gabe felt a tug at his heart, and cradled Sam in his arms, cuddling him, holding him close.

“You'll never be a monster kid. Not to me.” Gabe replied tenderly, “You’re a warrior. A survivor. A tiny speck of hope in this crap sack of a world. We need you kid. So whatever you do, don’t lose hope. Never lose hope. There’s always some out there. And you can’t give up become some of the bad stuff makes a guest appearance on the way. You just gotta  shove it into a wall and walk past it so that you can get to the good stuff. And I know, that there is good stuff waiting at the end.” for a few seconds there was silence. Sam broke it with one word:

“Thank-you.” and he meant it. Every stress, every worry, he poured out to Gabriel in that one moment. And he knew as long as Gabe was with him, they wouldn’t come back.

“Gabe...” Sam said in the kind of voice a child afraid of the dark uses,

“Yes.” Gabe replied,

“Stay with me until I fall asleep again.” Sam whispered.Gabe’s voice softened,

“Okay kid.”

So Gabe did stay. And even when Sam was asleep, he stayed, cuddling him in his arms, laying a kiss once and awhile on his forehead. Small, sweet ones. Had he fallen for Sam? Gabe didn’t know. But right then, in the hotel room, Gabe knew what was important and what wasn’t. And he knew that whatever happened he had to watch over Sam. That was his mission. That was his purpose. That was what side he was on.

 

He stayed until he heard the click of the lock, signaling Dean was back, but made no effort to stand before he entered. Or when the bottle in Dean’s hand hit the carpet, a puddle of beer forming where it landed.

“G-Gabe?” Dean’s voice was both surprised and angry, “I thought you were...”

“Dead.” Gabe finished, “Yeah, I know.” Gabe bent down slightly, pressing a little kiss to Sam’s lips. They uptilted a bit. Dean scowled,

“You didn’t fuck him did you?” he growled. Gabe laughed,

“No, no. Why Dean? You jealous?” Dean turned a similar colour to that of a fire engine, but shrugged off the comment.

“No. I’m worried. He’s already fragile I don’t want...”

“Oh he’s past fragile Dean.”. Dean’s  face dropped,

“Wh-what?”

“Sam’s broken, bent, burnt, scarred and twisted in every way. He’s scared Dean. Scared of letting you down. Scared he’s a monster. Reduced the mirror to rubble when I got here. Blood everywhere.” Gabe walked to the door, ignoring Dean’s stutterings, “Do me a favour Dean,” Gabe glanced wistfully at Sam’s body, hunched in a fetal position know without the feeling of safety Gabe had provided, he looked back, muttering his final words as he walked out the door, “Please don’t let him tip over the damn edge.”

 


End file.
